Porridge, or That Time Glitch Almost Drowned
by magicscalpel
Summary: It's always nice to have Ambrose for breakfast. Too bad he doesn't want to leave his lab.


I like porridge. Wrote this on Christmas morning because I have ADD and hyperactive insomnia.

Don't own.

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Glitch's lab was a battlefield. When Cain wasn't being invaded by a barrage of smoky explosions or nearly having his hair singed off by inventions gone terribly wrong, he was busy trying to wrestle the advisor from his workstation with increasing vigor. The simple fact remained that food was fuel and without fuel the body would fizzle and die. With all of the knowledge Glitch had regained from being reunited with his brain, it was still surprising how much of an idiot he was when it came to his own bodily functions and needs. Maybe Ambrose never had any common sense to begin with and put people through this same bull every single day.

The little man would kick and flail and wriggle in his arms as the door to the dining hall drew near and the door to his lab shrank in the distance. He would whine and argue that he did not need to partake in breakfast or socialize with acquaintances when there was so much work to catch up on, and he could always eat in the lab.

Point given, Cain wasn't a fan of idle chatter at the table when he'd much rather put food in his mouth than words, but it was obviously unhealthy for Glitch to keep himself holed up inside that dreary room, and thus Cain nominated himself as the "good example maker" when all of DG's gentle inquiries failed to rouse Glitch from his tireless tinkering.

Sunlight beamed through the grand windows and illuminated the small rounded table, which held both fine breakfast foods as well as fine conversations with no serious U-turns to deaden the airy mood. It was made useful in a single room away from the main dining hall since long tables and formal drapes were no way to kick off such a lovely day.

Glitch had the decency to bow or try to before Cain chucked his butt into a seat (which was still sore from its rough trip across the floor to the dining hall). Cain was rewarded with a sharp harrumph. tThe advisor did not dare curse him and upset the setting.

Cain settled beside him and gave a nod and gentle "Mornin'" to the Queen, Ahamo, DG, and finally Azkadellia, all of whom had ceased their talk to watch the two men's entrance in amusement. The Queen's knowing grin shimmered in the light, a clue that Glitch's refusal to eat was a commonplace. It was no surprise that the man was so thin; he bet silently that if he were to aim his gun at Glitch's chest from two feet away, the bullet would soar right past him. Of course he would never put him up to the experiment, but it was worth keeping in mind.

It was the Queen who melted Glitch's icy leer at the table. Her smiles to him were like dog biscuits to Tutor. "It's wonderful of you to finally join us, Ambrose." A pregnant pause followed before Glitch sighed and smiled back. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Glitch grew quite warm to the company and ultimately forgot about his work, as was expected of such a man who at times couldn't remember his own shoe size. They all dabbled in their breakfast and Glitch followed suit with his chosen bowl of heavily spiced porridge, which he eagerly liquidated with mounds of sugar, stirring the white mountain into his oats with delicate flicks of his spoon as Cain looked on in mild distaste. If the headcase so much as tried to touch his eggs in such a manner, his hand would be making friends with his fork.

Soon it became apparent to the ex-Tin Man that perhaps it would have been better to let Glitch eat in his lab.

After several minutes, things began to get a bit too warm; especially his face from the animated stories Glitch had persuaded the others into swapping with him.

The advisor was doing a spectacular job in advising the Queen of every hilarious occasion with Cain he could recall, unable to decide on which humiliating story was his favorite: like when his impossibly tight pants ripped while bending over just a little too far; or the time he had tried to teach Cain the fox trot but he just couldn't muster the rhythm to stay on his feet and off his behind; or even the time when DG was going to wack _him_ over the head with a stick until he noticed something particularly shiny on the ground and bent over to marvel at it, thus resulting in Cain getting an impressive dent in his face…

"Or how about that time you—" Cain shoved Glitch's face into his porridge. The _splotch_ that followed was deafening.

"Just because you can remember it, doesn't mean you should repeat it."

Silence loomed over the table, particularly from Ahamo and the Queen, until Azkadellia broke the silence with a barely composed snicker, though her eyes betrayed a sense of guilt for finding amusement in Glitch's pain.

Cain shrugged and held Glitch's face in place. The inventor gurgled into the bowl in what looked like a reasonable attempt to scream, which resulted in mounds of sticky goop flopping onto the table and coating his hair.

"Cain!" DG yelped in surprise.

"What?" Cain responded, thrumming his fingers over the scar dividing the half-wit's head, almost daring DG to tell him that something so good was so wrong.

He was not expecting her to take it so well. "Just be sure to give him some air before he drowns in his breakfast," the princess said slowly, wide eyes trained on the writhing mass/mess that was Glitch.

"'Course. My job is to protect the residents of this fine palace," The movements of the head in his palm were growing sluggish, "so that gives me the right to protect myself," he stated matter-of-factly, finally pulling his hand away… and ducking from the imminent onslaught of soggy oats as Glitch's head jerked back and he gasped for air around the porridge coating his skin like a facial mask.

After controlling his breathing and wiping the gunk from his eyes, Glitch managed a nervous giggle and chanced a look around.

Ahamo had saved the Queen's face from a disastrous porridge impact with a silver platter. He took the brunt of the hit for his beloved, a chivalrous sacrifice that finely demonstrated the love he had for his wife. Glitch's eyes scanned over a surprised yet clean DG and a pissed looking Azkadellia whose face radiated enough angry heat to boil the porridge that dripped down her forehead and into her eyes.

DG tsked, "Should have ducked, sis." Azkadellia turned her glare to DG instead.

"Oh my, I-I-I'm so sorry! Here, lemme help!" With pity in his heart and guilt weighing on his shoulders (because it was all his fault, right?), Glitch dived over the table, hand outstretched, his napkin grazing over the curve of the older princess's nose in a desperate endeavor to turn that frown upside down. He succeeded in effectively getting what porridge was on his face to splatter down Azkadellia's dress.

And Cain just watched. They all just watched.

Then Cain abruptly stood, taking Glitch by the scruff of the neck like a naughty puppy and dragging him across the floor to the door. "Glitch needs a bath," he said bluntly before the door shut, cutting off Glitch's high-pitched whines of protest and Cain's defeated "Can't take you anywhere!"

Everyone else sat in silence a while more. The Queen looked to Azkadellia and smiled warmly, "It's always wonderful to have Ambrose for breakfast, isn't it?"


End file.
